You're The Best
by ChimeBells
Summary: Quick drabble I wrote inserting some of my own insecurities into Kurt. Also, I changed Klaine's meeting and their story from there. Enjoy!


You know, I had always wondered about my future. I mean, it's only natural for every 16-year-old to dream and question themselves about what awaits after senior year, and even though I appeared to be absolutely certain of my successful career at Broadway as a star actor and fashion icon, I was really not. I was honestly just a kid who had no idea what the world had to offer me after high school.

Lately, I had been thinking a lot, which was not at all unusual for me. Usually, though, I was more of a loud thinker, meaning that I would go around spouting my ideas all over the place to whoever was willing to listen. For the pas few months, however, I had been doing a lot of the silent thinking.

I had taken to coming home immediately after Glee practice ended, whereas I usually stayed around talking to my friends and just hanging out for a couple of hours before. I would climb the stairs to my room slowly, just appreciating the quiet in the house before dad arrived from the garage and Finn from football practice and Carole came home and started clanging around in the kitchen in order to make delicious dinner, which I only knew was delicious every day because of dad and Finn's expressions of delight after every meal. I would lie down in my bed after changing into the ugliest pair of sweatpants I owned, close my eyes and just _breathe_.

I still lived my life, in the literal sense of the word. I did my homework, talked to my fellow gleeks in between classes and laughed at jokes and the like, but something felt different. I was numb.

You know that moment when you just stop and feel time passing? When you can just see your life happening as if from a distance? Well, that was what Kurt Hummel had been living for the past couple of months.

The future thing hadn't sprung up in my mind out of nowhere. It had come to me during Glee one day while a discussion in which I had no interest took place between the other members. I vaguely remember the cause being Rachel's unwelcome gloating of some school musical she had starred in, which resulted in Artie pointing out his performance as director-assistant of the play, and Tina complimenting his contribution as well as Mercedes's one-liner character and Finn's use of his influence to attract a full audience to the show. And while I sat there, listening from my seat that was rather far from where my friends were clustered together, I felt invisible.

But that was just it, wasn't it? I was just another gleek in the background, and that meant I was invisible to all the people that mattered. Because while my friends discussed their performances, not once was I mentioned. Not once was the fact that I had sewn each of their costumes single-handedly for many sleepless nights on end been brought up, and neither had the fact that I had timed and adjusted every scene to perfection while Mr. Shue neglected the club once more in favor of running after Ms. Pillsbury like a lost puppy.

Now, never would I accuse my friends of ignoring me or anything like it. They were the best friends I could have ever asked for. The fact was that I had been becoming invisible, gradually disappearing from people's lives, making myself easily replaceable. But this was high school, and must kids longed to be invisible among the stereotypes that ruled out lives. One could not remain invisible forever, though.

Outside high school, the world looked around for the obvious. It seeked obvious skill, obvious talent, and those who had it would fill simple people's TV screens or entertain them on the stage, or even rule their countries. When compared to them, other people were small, a simple number. Invisible.

So I thought quietly everyday and distanced myself from everyone. I might as well have quit the Glee club for all my presence contributed to the numbers and songs. I didn't sing anymore – and no one noticed. I didn't eat Carole's supposedly delicious food at dinner, but dad and Finn were too busy talking about football and even Glee to pay any attention. It was like I didn't have my own life anymore. Like I was just some extra in other people's lives who stood in the background like a prop.

I had been disappearing for a good half of my junior year when I felt myself stir the slightest bit from my metaphorical, self-induced coma. I had been working at the garage when he came by with a flashy Toyota in need of an oil change. Since there was no one else working there at the time, I quickly went through the process of getting my hands dirty and the car fixed. Once done, I looked at the costumer, noting that he couldn't have been far from my age and that he could probably use a little knowledge on how to handle small mechanical problems like this in case of an emergency, and proceeded to show him how to do an oil change on his own.

When, after about an hour, Blaine, as he had introduced himself, had finally gotten the hang of things, we both looked outside and noticed the darkening sky. He had to leave soon, as he had a long drive back to Westerville ahead of him, which was where he went to school at some private Academy named Dalton, Blaine had told me. So he paid for the fix and got inside his car while I cleaned my hands on a rug by the counter. Before Blaine left, he turned to me and said, "Thanks, Kurt. You're the best." And, smiling a toothy grin, closed his door and drove off.

I stood there with wide eyes for quite a while after that. Had Blaine never been to a mechanic shop before? Because I knew I was definitely not the best around here. Any of the guys in the garage could do circles around me when it came to fixing cars, just like Rachel could sing circle around me and Mike could dance so much better and, well, you get the picture. His words followed me for many days after that and, that night, I finally tasted Carole's in fact wonderful cooking.

Then, I bumped into him a second time at regionals – his Glee club was New Direction's competition that year. I felt my Glee club's eyes on me for the first time in months when he entered our green room to wish us good luck and recognized me instantly, greeting me warmly as if we'd been friends all our lives. Somehow, I ended up with his phone registered into my contacts.

After New Directions's performance, which was the last one on the program, we were announced the winners of the competition and the group burst into cheers and hugs. Well, I was used to not getting a hug or even a look during these, so you can imagine my surprise when I was enveloped by Blaine in a warm, enthusiastic embrace as he congratulated _me_ and said, "You guys deserve it! Kurt you were the best up there!"

I had imply swayed in the back and sung a few backing lines. Rachel had soloed. Finn had soloed. Mercedes had had her amazing ending notes, and Brittany and Mike had danced spectacularly. How could Blaine say I had been better than any of those obviously talented people?

I hung out with Blaine many times after regionals. He sent me messages of all kinds and, most importantly, he seemed to honestly want to be part of _my_ life. I felt myself begin to fight to wake up from the haze I had been stuck in for far too long because, I realized after numerous coffee dates and playful text exchanges, I actually wanted Blaine in my life.

Every simple exchange we had would end with the same line, "You're the best, Kurt." I took to asking him what he thought I was best at every time, but he never answered.

Eventually, I got back on track with things. It seemed like my world had returned to spinning as Blaine and I met almost every single day for longer and longer periods of time. I seemed to suddenly be singing again in Glee, and talking to dad and Finn and Carole during dinner, and I now actually ate.

And then Senior year cam and went in a flash.

There was only a week left until we would all be off to college, done with high school at last. Except, I still had something dormant inside me, which would keep me far from any big dreams I was supposed to be pursuing for the next years.

I had a coffee date with Blaine on that Friday. I t wasn't a goodbye meeting because we were both going to NYU, but it felt different from our usually comfortable encounters. Tenser. That day, the first thing Blaine said to me was the old "Kurt, you're the best.", and, as per usual, I asked what I was supposed to be the best at.

You know that moment when time speeds up and you can feel that everything is happening just right? When you can just feel every inch of your body _living_ without wanting to ever stop? Well, that was what Kurt Hummel felt as Blaine Anderson kissed him in that coffee shop.

That day, as they said their goodbyes for the night, Blaine repeated, "Kurt, you're the best.", and before I could ask for an explanation, he looked into my eyes and said, "You're the best at being you."

I finished my fashion design course at NYU with an internship at Vogue waiting for me, and proceeded to become a designer on par with classics such as Marc Jacobs and McQueen. I also graduated NYU with an engagement ring decorating my finger and planning my wedding with Blaine Anderson.

I did all that knowing, from that coffee date on my last Friday of high school, that although I might not be good enough for the world, I was good enough for him. And for me, that was all that really mattered.


End file.
